Easy as ABC
by livingondaydreams
Summary: A series of drabbles and one shots, A through Z. Zeal- Whatever Percy did, he did with heart. R
1. Art

**A/N: Ello, there. If you're reading this, congratulations: you've begun reading an awesome collection of drabbles and oneshots, if I do say so myself. Please note that none of these will be in chronological order and none of them will have sequels. Please remember to review! Even a single word means a lot.  
**

**This first one was originally a drabble and a half (150 words) but after reading it over recently I realized that it definitely wasn't my best work. So it got a makeover and became a oneshot-type-thing! Hurrah. I hope you like it better than the original. And now, without further ado, the REVISED version of Art.**

**_Everything seems more certain when it's on a canvas._ (Rachel)**

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**Art**

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Rachel groans, massaging her temples with two fingers. She accidentally adds a streak of blue paint to her copper hair, but she doesn't notice (or care, for that matter). The images splashing in her mind make her dizzy and the headaches she gets are killer.

Since becoming the Oracle, the dreams and visions have become a constant factor in her life. There isn't a single moment when she's not seeing some moment in the future. Fractured scenes flit across her vision. Blurred faces haunt her during the night.

Sometimes the visions are happy—a wedding, a small child in the arms of his mother, a couple walking on a serene beach. Every few flashes of life, she glimpses a friend's face. These are the kinds of scenes she doesn't mind, aside from the migraines.

But most of the scenes are horrible. Burning and crumbling buildings, screams on a battlefield as two fierce armies clash, a woman sobbing as she clutches a corpse. And blood—there is an overabundance of blood. It's visions like these that make her regret ever becoming the oh-so-privileged Oracle of Delphi. Forget Apollo, forget prophecies, forget glory—she didn't want this.

So she paints, to escape the pain. Colors (especially red—she uses far too much red) splash across the pristine white square on her easel. The scenes come together; the faces become less blurred. Everything seems more _certain_ when it's on a canvas. Once something is out of her head, once the headache is gone and her eyesight is clear, she can analyze it from a more distant perspective. It won't change unless _she_ changes it, because now the scene is firmly present and visible to all.

That's another difficult part of this whole Oracle deal: people don't _get_ it. Yeah, occasionally people say stuff like, "It must to suck to see all the awful stuff that's going to happen," but they rarely mean it and it's a one-in-a-million occurrence if they do. Even then, they don't understand exactly what her duty entails. They don't know the feeling of sitting in math class and getting clobbered with a vision of the next great catastrophe. They don't know the feeling of having to tell people their coming trials and failures. They don't know the feeling of constantly being asked about the future (no, people, the apocalypse will not happen in 2012 just because the Mayans didn't feel like continuing their calendar _ad infinitum_).

So when people ask her what it's like, she says something noncommittal and vague, like, "It's weird, but I deal with it." And whenever people ask her why she paints, she replies, "Because it helps me see."

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	2. Barbie

**A/N: Another drabble and a half. (Thanks to xXxFireStarxXx for reviewing!)**

_**There's more to the Aphrodite cabin than meets the eye. **_**(Silena)**

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**Barbie**

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To the rest of the camp, they're a joke. She knows it. They laugh at the silly children of Aphrodite, calling them lovesick fools, dumb blondes, pansies.

But Silena believes that there's something more to her siblings than the others can see. Sure, they're all gorgeous, and maybe they do think that makeup can solve almost everything, but the Aphrodite cabin isn't a bunch of Barbies (and Kens). They honestly believe in love. And not only love between the beautiful people. Seriously, who would have ever thought a daughter of Aphrodite and a son of Hephaestus would fall in love?

And, believe it or not, the Aphrodite kids go through heartbreak, too. So many were dismissed because they were "shallow" or "just a pretty face." So many of her siblings had cried for love.

There's more to the Aphrodite cabin than a Barbie dream house. And Silena knows it.

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	3. Confession

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! This chapter's a oneshot that takes place the summer before TLO. Enjoy!**

_**She always managed to make him feel better. **_**(PercyxAnnabeth)**

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**Confession**

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Percy sat on the cool, moist sand of the beach, letting the calm waves wash over his feet. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be here at this hour, but no one had ever stopped him (and besides, he _technically_ wasn't even supposed to exist—so technicalities never really bothered him much anymore). He stared up at the bright moon, letting himself sink into the blank nothingness of the night. The camp was finally peaceful, for once. Probably the first time this summer.

At the end of this summer, Percy was going to turn sixteen. He was going to make the choice that would either save the world or, more likely, destroy it. He would probably die. And he wasn't ready.

He lay back in the sand, trying to clear his head and simply enjoy the quiet. It wasn't working. Whenever he finally got into that zone where nothing mattered but the waves and the darkness, the voice talked to him. The voice, that nagging little person in the back of his head, had been speaking to him a lot in the past few months.

_You're not ready. You're not brave enough. You're too stupid. You'll make the wrong choice. You'll go down in history as the boy who destroyed the world. Everyone will hate you._

The poisonous thoughts haunted him day and night. He could never fully escape his fear.

Percy sighed. He really needed to control this problem before it got out of hand.

"Couldn't sleep?" a voice asked softly from further up the beach. (No, not _the _voice, _a_ voice.)

He turned around and found Annabeth walking towards him. Her blonde hair, tied up in a messy ponytail, shone in the muted light and her eyes, although tired-looking, sparkled, making his brain go a little soft.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, when his mind decided to function properly again. "You, too?"

"Yep." She sat down next to him in the sand, stretching out on her back. Most of her body was in the water, but she didn't seem to mind much.

They stayed there in comfortable, thoughtful silence for a while. Both of them were soaking in the calmness, the simplicity of the moment—far too much of their lives was complicated and painful now.

"Are you scared?"

Those three words shattered Percy's peace. Was he scared? Yes. Definitely. Of course. _Scared_ couldn't describe the feeling powerfully enough.

"Sorry. You don't have to answer, if you want," she whispered, obviously uncomfortable with his long silence.

"No, it's… it's all right," he sighed. Only Annabeth would be able to get a confession out of him. "I'm terrified. I can't even describe it. I try to stay positive, but most of the time it's just so _hard_. I always end up thinking that something will go wrong, that I'll mess up and make the wrong choice. It's like this little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me I'm not… good enough, I guess."

"Percy…" Annabeth began. He shook his head, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

"And even if I _do_ make the right choice, I'm still scared to lose people. I know it's going to happen, but I wish there was some way everyone could survive. Everyone's depending on me. On my choice. Grover. We haven't heard from him in a _month_, Annabeth. And Tyson. He'd be absolutely crushed if…. And Nico—if I die, then he'll be the child of the prophecy. I can't let him go through that. And…" He took a deep breath. "And I'm scared I'm going to lose _you_, Annabeth. I don't know what I'd do if you—"

"Percy, look at me." He rolled over and stared into her gray eyes, desperately needing reassurance. "I'd say everything is going to be fine, but I don't want to lie to you. People are going to get hurt, and people are going to die. That's how war is. But… you can't blame yourself, Percy. You're a great hero. You're brave, and kind, and smart…. You'll make the right choice."

Percy was quiet for a long time. Sometime during Annabeth's speech, he had unconsciously pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly for a moment, wishing that he could stay like this forever.

He kissed her forehead softly and whispered, "Thanks, Wise Girl."

"Anytime, Seaweed Brain," she chuckled.

He closed his eyes and let himself live completely in this moment, with Annabeth in his arms and the world perfectly calm. This time, the voice didn't disturb him. Instead, a new, stronger voice worked its way into his head and encircled his heart.

It was Annabeth's.

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	4. Dream

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Spring sports started up, my brother had surgery, I had no internet for two nights... also, I'll be on vacation with only occasional internet, so updates will be infrequent for a while. Stick with me, though, I promise it'll be worth the wait. **

**Today's episode is sponsored by the letter D. **

_**The love of his life could possibly be burning to death, and he's stuck across the country. **_**(GroverxJuniper)**

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**Dream**

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"_Grover! Grover! Help me!" she screams desperately. He glances around, eyes wild, trying to find her in the darkness._

_Suddenly, he sees a tree, a juniper, being consumed by bright, roaring flames. He tries to run to her, to call for help, to do _something_, but he's frozen in place. Surrounded by the blackness, he has no choice but to watch her burn. He struggles, but it's no use. _

"_Juniper! Nooo…!"_

Grover sits bolt upright, shaking and covered in cold sweat. He jumps up starts running into the woods, scrambling to find Juniper, to make sure she's alright. Then he remembers—he's in Colorado. Nowhere near Camp Half Blood.

So he panics. The love of his life could possibly be burning to death, and he's stuck across the country with absolutely no way to contact—that was it!

He digs through the pockets of his backpack frantically, mumbling to himself anxiously, until finally he finds what he's looking for—a single, shiny, golden drachma. It's lightly raining, luckily, so he doesn't have to take the time to find a source of water. He shines his flashlight through the drizzle until he gets a sort-of rainbow.

"O Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, accept my offering! Please, show me Juniper!" He dances around, unable to stand still. Then, finally, _finally,_ he sees her. Or, rather, her tree. It's perfectly fine, beautiful. Not burning. Even in the darkness, he can just discern her face in the bark. She's sleeping peacefully.

"Thank the gods," he whimpers.

It was just a dream.

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	5. Edge

**A/N: This is the REVISED (5/3/11) edition of Edge- same idea, different execution. It's still a drabble (100 words). Please note: This is _supposed_ to be short. Hope you like it!**

**_Not quite, not quite, not quite. She was undefinable. _(Thalia)**

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**Edge**

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She stands on the edges. Not quite here, not quite there, just teetering on the borders. Her mother hates her; her family on her father's side despises her existence. She's not dead—not that she can tell—but she's not alive, not in a human way. The camp would crumble without her (she's necessary for their survival), but she'll never be at home at camp, never be friends with any of the campers. Thalia was on the fringe, always "not quite" a part of anything. The edge had always been her place, and maybe it was better that way.

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	6. Fire

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. This one is somewhere between a one-shot and a drabble. Takes place during the summer before TLO, before Percy is invulnerable. Enjoy!**

_**Annabeth catches Percy "experimenting" with his fire-resistancy. **_**(Percy and Annabeth)**

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**Fire**

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"Percy, come on, you have to teach the new campers swordplay in five minutes!"

Annabeth was pounding on the door of cabin three, extremely annoyed. Music was blasting from inside, loud enough that Percy probably couldn't hear her. She grumbled, shaking her head, and opened the door.

She caught a glimpse of the cabin—the ocean-themed décor, the ever-present mess (courtesy of Percy)- and then she saw him. His back was towards her, and he was staring calmly at his own hand. Which was in flames.

"_Percy!" _

He spun around quickly, hiding his hand behind his back. A spout of water flew over from the fountain, putting out the fire.

"Uh... hey, Wise Girl." The awkward attempt at conversation didn't fly with Annabeth. She glared at him until he sighed, seeming to resign himself to an intervention of sorts.

"Would you like to tell me," she asked darkly, "why your hand was _on fire_?"

"Well, see… Okay, you're going to think I'm insane. No, wait, you already do. Never mind. Anyway, um, I was… experimenting, I guess. Because, well, under Mount St. Helens, one of the telekhines mentioned that children of Poseidon are fire-resistant, and I, uh, wanted to see how it worked. So that's why my hand was on fire when you walked in," he finished in a rush.

Silence. Then, finally, Annabeth smiled and shook her head.

"Don't ever let me catch you doing that again, Seaweed Brain."

"Seriously, Annabeth, it doesn't hur—"

She punched him.

"Ow! Okay, okay, you're right, it causes me unbearable agony and it was very irresponsible of me and I'll never ever do it again. Really." He grinned. "Besides, don't we have some newbies to teach?"

She laughed and followed him out the door of his cabin, thinking to herself that Percy really did have seaweed for brains.

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	7. Gone

**A/N: A drabble. Thanks for all the reviews for past chapters; I'll try to get back to you all as soon as possible_._**

****_**He was gone. And he wasn't coming back. **_**(Thalia/Luke)**

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**Gone**

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There was no avoiding it now. Luke was gone—completely, permanently gone- and he wasn't coming back.

_"He betrayed us. He works for Kronos now."_

The first time he left had been hard enough to bear. To hear that the boy you may have loved had gone bad—it was impossible. There was no way Luke could have done that. Why had he changed?

_"It can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world."_

Then, she fought him, and she saw it. The darkness inside him. He was hurting, and she couldn't help. How badly she had wanted to reach out and comfort him. To hold his hand in hers.

_"He sacrificed himself to save everyone. He died a hero's death."_

But now he was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

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	8. Happy Meal

**A/N: This one takes place during BOTL, when Nico goes to get food for summoning Bianca. Cashier's POV. Enjoy!**

_**No normal ten year old walked around with a lacrosse stick strapped to his belt and asked for Happy Meals to summon the dead. **_**(Nico)**

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**Happy Meal**

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Jack Marano had encountered a lot of odd people at the McDonald's for which he was the cashier. People who spoke imaginary languages, people with weird hair or clothes, people who thought their pets were mythical creatures, people dressed in Halloween costumes in July… Jack had seen them all. But one of the strangest people he had ever experienced was that kid last summer.

It started out as a normal, boring shift at good ol' Mickey D's. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the slightly overweight family who were the only customers eating inside. Jack stood behind the counter listening to his iPod and staring off into space. The only good thing about this job, other than the pay, of course, was that he basically sat there for a few hours and filled only the occasional order. Most of the people did drive-thru now. His spacing was interrupted when someone walked in the door.

He was definitely a kid, Jack thought. Short and skinny, probably around ten. But he was dressed all in black, wearing a black military coat over a black shirt with a skull on it and black jeans. There was a silver skull ring on his finger and—was that a _sword_ he saw? No, a lacrosse stick, which was weird in itself. He really shouldn't have taken the late shift; he was hallucinating.

The strangest thing about the kid, though, was his... _aura_, Jack decided later. He just gave off this feeling of darkness or something. And his eyes—they were pitch black and made him look like a madman. There was no way any normal kid could look like that.

"Well? Are you going to ask me what I want, or are you just gonna stare at me all night?" the weird kid asked. Jack jumped. He hadn't noticed the kid coming up to the counter. This little encounter was already starting out strangely.

"Uh, okay. How can I help you?"

"Ten Happy Meals. Cheeseburgers. Oh, and how about some Coke, too."

Jack laughed. "Funny, kid. So what do you really want? Do you even have money?"

"I told you. Ten Happy Meals and ten Cokes. And yes, I want fries with that."

"Ha, ha. Seriously, kid. Why do you need ten freaking Happy Meals?"

And then, the kid looked up at him, straight in the eyes, and said: "I'm using them to summon the dead. It's something you wouldn't understand."

The kid was freaking _serious_. Definitely insane. It was probably better just to do what he asked at this point.

"Alright, then. Ten freaking Happy Meals it is. Happy now?"

The kid grinned. Creepy. "Very."

Jack called the order back to the kitchen and gave the little weirdo his receipt, along with ten cups for the Coke. The kid walked over to the fountain, his lacrosse stick glinting at his side. Who the hell _was_ this kid? No normal ten year old walked around with a lacrosse stick strapped to his belt and asked for Happy Meals—_ten_ Happy Meals—to summon the dead.

And to think that summoning-the-dead-kid wasn't even the weirdest person Jack had seen at this job. There was no question—Jack was quitting Mickey D's as soon as possible.

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	9. Irrational

**A/N: A poem of sorts- Annabeth reflecting on her love for Percy. Enjoy!**

_**It's like her brain has been tossed out the window by her wild heart. **_**(PercyxAnnabeth)**

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**Irrational**

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Is it reasonable? To love the son of your mother's bitterest rival?

No, probably not.

Really, how had it come to this?

Every time she sees him, that bubbly feeling rises in her chest

And she just wants to yell and dance and sing and cry

Like a madwoman—that's what love has turned her into.

It used to be that she was the rational one

The one who looked at all the risks and pros and cons

Yet now, it's like her brain has been tossed out the window by her wild heart.

Somehow, she's not sure exactly when it happened, or how, or why,

He has become her reality.

Enamor—that's the word. He charms her, captivates her heart

Like a bird trapped in a cage.

Only… this bird is happy to stay in the cage, because the cage protects her

Valiantly, until the end. She knows he'll never betray her.

Extraordinary—that's what his love is, what her love is

So much love that

He makes her want to scream

"I love you" at the top of her lungs—

Madwoman. That's what love has turned her into. And she loves it.

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	10. Jump

**A/N: Chiron makes Percy test his invulnerability by jumping off the roof of the Big House. Hilarity ensues. **

**Originally, I was just going to have Seaweed Brain make his incredibly graceful descent on his own, but then I remembered the part in TLH when the weathervane "talks" to Jason, and, well... this happened. Enjoy!**

_**Percy was pretty sure invulnerable meant invulnerable, but Chiron insisted on making sure. **_**(Percy and Chiron)**_**  
**_

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**Jump**

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"Remind me again why I'm up here?" Percy called down to Chiron—who, by the way, _wasn't_ currently standing on top of the Big House, about to jump four stories down.

"I told you," his mentor yelled up, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard. "We need to test exactly how invulnerable you are. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. During the last two weeks of camp, Chiron had been testing Percy to determine the extent of his invincibility, other than his Achilles spot. According to Chiron, Achilles had been hidden away at court and then at war before the centaur could test him. And Luke, obviously, hadn't been around. So that left Percy to fulfill his teacher's curiosity. Wonderful. (He was still sore from the strength and endurance trials yesterday.)

Today's test was simple—Percy would jump off the roof of the Big House, and Chiron would do some complicated calculation to determine how much strain his bones could take. Percy was pretty sure invulnerable meant invulnerable, but Chiron had insisted on making sure.

Percy looked around. He could see the entire camp from his rooftop perch—all the way to the edge of the forest. The wind was whipping fiercely today, making Percy even more nervous to be so high in the air. As if he wasn't terrified enough already, being practically in Zeus's domain and all. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to jump. _The sooner you go, the sooner you get off here._

_Creeeeak_, went something behind him. It was a metallic, rusty-sounding noise, but it somehow sounded like the shriek of an angry eagle at the same time.

Percy turned around, startled. What had made that noise? Suddenly, the eagle weathervane spun around to face him, glinting in the sunlight. The golden bird flapped its wings and—Holy Poseidon, the eagle was _alive._

It shrieked again, louder and angrier than the last time. Percy jumped—one of those tiny little starts you do when you're surprised—and his foot slipped, sending him tumbling off the roof backwards, his arms flailing wildly, and then he was tumbling through the air until his head cracked against the roof of the porch and he crashed onto the hard, grassy, sweet ground.

"Percy!" Chiron cantered over and started shaking his shoulder roughly. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four?" Percy groaned.

"Close enough. What happened?"

"The weathervane… I think it got mad at me."

Chiron stared at him for a second, disbelieving. Then he burst out in laughter, side-splitting laughter like the old centaur had not done in ages. Percy just groaned again and flopped back on the grass, vowing not to ever, ever set foot on that rooftop again.

Somewhere on Olympus, Zeus laughed.

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	11. Kiss

**A/N: Another poem! This one's a lot more freeverse than Irrational. **

**A hunter (**_**not **_**Thalia) falls in love. **

_**What's the point of immortality if the one you love isn't undying?**_

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**K/i/s/s**

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It's almost m.i.d.n.i.g.h.t

and the moon shines brightly

harshly

above them

Artemis disapproves

hates losing such a strong maiden

to _l_\_o_\_v_\_e_, of all things

But right now

she doesn't care

that she's b-ro-ke-n her oath

that she'll die

that she'll be remembered as

the girl who fell in _l_\_o_\_v_\_e_

As if love was the most horrible atrocity

in the (world)

Actually

she's happy

to have

f

a

l

l

e

n

in love

What's the point of

Immortality

if the one you love isn't undying?

Why keep on living

forever

if your f..o..r..e..v..e..r would be hollow?

Right now, though

in this moment

that is so tiny

~minuscule~

yet at the same time

so enormously significant

all she can think about

is that she's k/i/s/s/i/n/g him

and he's k/i/s/s/i/n/g her

and being k/i/s/s/e/d

is _so _worth it

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	12. Legacy

**A/N: Futurefic- Percy and Annabeth come back to Camp Half Blood to introduce Chiron to their daughter.**

**_Invincible son of Poseidon + brilliant daughter of Athena = one Hades of a demigod._**

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**Legacy**

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Chiron looked down at the tiny, round face in Annabeth's arms. Bright green eyes stared up at him curiously, already framed with thick lashes. Her hair, though barely present, was a soft gold color like her mother's.

"Say hi, Zoë," Percy murmured. He took his daughter gently into his arms and passed her up to Chiron.

Very rarely had two demigods survived long enough to have children. Usually they were the children of lesser gods, who were less likely to attract trouble.

This child's parents, however, were two of the most skilled demigods ever to walk the earth. Her father was an immensely powerful son of Poseidon, the Hero of Olympus, the Savior of the Gods, the Bearer of the Curse of Achilles. Her mother was the Official Architect of the New Olympus, an exceptionally brilliant daughter of Athena, one of the best strategists Chiron had seen.

One thing was for certain: Zoë Jackson had one Hades of a legacy to live up to.

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	13. Mother

**A/N: Halfway there! Thanks to everyone (shout out to xFireStarx) who's read, reviewed, favorited, or added this story to their alerts. Also, thanks to everyone who's added me as a favorite author and/or to author alert. You guys rock!**

**Today's installment is a drabble and a half.**

**_"The Tiger, the living symbol of strength and power, generally inspires fear and respect." - Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother  
_ **

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**Mother**

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Hera had always been different from other mothers.

Maybe it was because her childhood had been seriously messed up (what with being swallowed whole by her father and all). Maybe it was because she had married her own younger brother. Maybe it was because that same brother had cheated on her thousands— if not millions—of times. Maybe it was because she had only borne two children in more than four millennia, and somehow neither of them turned out the way she had imagined.

Or maybe the problem was that Hera was a perfectionist (a tiger mom, one could say). She wanted her family to be the gold standard—which it should be, seeing as they were deities. She wanted everyone to behave and get along and love each other. She wanted everyone else to look at the Olympians and say, "Wow, what a spectacular family." She wanted one, big, happy, safe, _perfect_ family.

And if that meant getting rid of the ones who disturbed her perfect vision, well, so be it.

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**


	14. Needle

**A/N: My attempt at humor. Not sure where this one came from, but, hey, if the shoe fits...** **Experiment time: if you read this author note, please include the word pointy in your review, just for curiosity's sake. Don't forget to check out my other stories! And now, enjoy.**

**_Mortals tended to get a bit confused when sharp objects failed to penetrate his skin. (Percy)_**

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**Needle**

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"Alright, honey, now sit down and you'll be back to class in just a minute," the school nurse said. It was flu season, which meant that Percy's school was giving out flu shots. In other words, it was not a good time to have invulnerability. (Mortals tended to get a bit confused when sharp objects failed to penetrate his skin.)

"Really, Mrs. Hamilton, I don't—"

"Don't worry, Percy. Have a seat and you'll be done in a few seconds, if you just cooperate." He sighed and plopped down into the chair, figuring that he might as well get this over with. She wiped the needle with rubbing alcohol, like she thought that would comfort him or something. He glanced at the window. If he could just create a distraction, he was close enough to the door…

"Alright, ready? One, two…" The needle poked his skin. Nothing happened. Sure, he could feel the coolness of the metal pressing against his arm, but his skin simply moved like someone was nudging him with a twig.

Mrs. Hamilton frowned. "That's strange. Maybe my needle's gotten dull. Sorry, dear, let me try again with a new one." She hurried into her office quickly, and Percy took his chance. He sprinted out of the nurse's office, accidentally toppling the chair as he sprang up. He was out the door before she could even turn around.

She shook her head. "How silly. It's only a needle…"

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	15. Octopus

**A/N: Imaginary cookies for percabeth4evr, AtheisticPokemon, Bobeara, high . fiving . jesus and Unsuspected for including the word pointy (or point) in their review! As for the rest of you, I still love y'all, don't worry.**

**_The day Percy realizes that putting down an octopus rebellion in Atlantis is not exactly normal. (PercyxAnnabeth)_**

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**Octopus**

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Annabeth watched as Percy trudged out of the ocean and sat down with a huff on the shore of Camp Half Blood. Early that morning Poseidon had called him down to Atlantis. He hadn't said much, but the look on Percy's face had told her the problem was serious.

She came over and sat next to him, laying her head on his strong shoulder. He looked exhausted. They sat for a few minutes in comfortable silence. Eventually, she took his hand and said, "Tough day down under?"

Percy chuckled. "Yep. Stopping an octopus rebellion sure takes a lot out of you."

Annabeth stared at him, disbelieving. And then she started laughing, tears coming to her eyes as she fell back into the sand. "Oh, come on, Percy. An _octopus rebellion_? You have got to be kidding me."

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Strange, but true. They put up a good fight."

She shook her head. The idea was just so _ridiculous_. "So, let me get this straight. A bunch of octopi just decided to rebel against Poseidon? What could they have been angry about?"

"Taxes," he sighed. "It's taking him more time and money than expected to rebuild the palace. Especially the game room."

"You do realize how weird that sounds, right?"

"Is it?"

"You are _such_ a Seaweed Brain."

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	16. Party Pony Prom

**A/N: Do I get bonus points for triple alliteration? More comedy (but the next few will be more serious). I've always wondered about the "centaur in a prom dress" story... here's my version.  
**

**A general disclaimer/reminder for this entire collection: I don't own PJO, Rick Riordan does. I _do_ own these stories, and the ideas behind them if they're originals. If you'd like to use any of these original ideas feel free, but please _ask _me first. Got a little bit mad when I saw a story that was strangely similar to one of mine. [End rant.]**

**_"You really don't want to know."_ (Pre-series)**

* * *

**Party Pony Prom**

* * *

Annabeth knows it's going to be an interesting day when the Party Ponies show up.

They gallop through camp, sowing destruction (and hilarity) everywhere—the pegasi have been set loose, the Big House is dripping in neon paint, the Texans have marshmallows stuffed up their noses, and the Aphrodite cabin is sprinting away from the Florida division screaming about bad tans.

Chiron is trying to control his brethren, and failing miserably. The Party Ponies surround him for a few seconds, and he emerges with clown makeup smeared on his face—Barry from Jersey has a real knack for that, apparently. Another centaur manages to find a barrel of root beer and dumps it all on a bewildered Chiron's head. The others attack him, yelling something about wasting perfectly good root beer.

Finally, Emilie from the Aphrodite cabin comes running out of the Big House holding a megaphone and some kind of jeweled chest. "EVERYONE LISTEN UP!" she screams. The megaphone makes a horrible screeching noise, and everyone—including the Party Ponies—covers their ears and protests.

"Put down your Nerf guns. _Now._" She glares at the few centaurs that resist until they drop their weapons. "Anyone who continues to fight will face _the box_." At this, everyone in the Aphrodite cabin shudders, horrified expressions on their faces.

A centaur—Willy Joel from Missouri—snorts and rolls his eyes behind 3D glasses. "Oh, no, not the box! What're we gonna do?"

Emilie smirks. She gestures at her siblings, who start to swarm Willy Joel. "It seems like we have our first volunteer! The rest of you can go back to your activities until we're finished with little Willy here."

The giggling Aphrodite campers drag the skeptical centaur into the hot pink Big House. The rest of the campers mill around outside while Chiron somehow manages to usher the other Party Ponies down to the archery range.

After about half an hour, a blood-curdling shriek emits from the Big House. Jack Finch from the Hermes cabin darts over to the window, trying to see what's happening to Willy Joel. He gasps and runs away, a horrified expression on his face.

"What is it?" the others ask. He can only shake his head.

"It's—it's awful. They—"

The door bursts open to reveal a snickering Aphrodite cabin and one pissed-looking centaur.

Willy Joel has been given the full makeover—red lips, blue eye shadow, plucked and penciled eyebrows, and…

"A prom dress," Annabeth murmurs in shock. She looks up at Emilie. "How in Hades did you get a prom dress on a centaur?"

The older girl grins devilishly. "You really _don't_ want to know."

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	17. Quiet

**A/N: Phew. What a week. Sports practices are getting longer and teachers are giving more homework... which means less frequent updates :( I'll try to update as much as possible, but things like homework and sleeping and eating and breathing come first. **

**The letter Q is a mini-oneshot: Thalia's final stand. Yes, this has been done hundreds of times, but hopefully this one's different.**

**_"I take it that what all men are really after is some form of, perhaps only some formula of, peace." ~James Conrad_**

* * *

**Quiet**

* * *

Thalia sprints up the hill, her legs burning and her breath coming in sharp gasps. She's already been wounded gods knows how many times, and so has everyone else. She glances back, pausing just a second to catch her breath, and screams, "Come _on!_ We have to make it." She sees Luke look up at her, half-dragging Annabeth at his side, his eyes wild. Blood soaks through his shirt, and Annabeth's arm definitely isn't supposed to turn that way. Grover hovers behind the pair, pushing them forward anxiously and muttering, "Please, gods. Help us!"

Thalia skids down the hill and helps Luke haul Annabeth to the crest. The monsters are gaining on them too quickly—they've already made it halfway up. She starts to shove the others down the other side of the hill, yelling, "Go! Get help—I've got this!"

"No!" Luke yells. Thalia just gives him one last push before turning her back on her best friend. She doesn't say anything; she's too busy concentrating, her entire body tensing automatically for the fight. The monsters - dozens of them: hellhounds, Furies, other demons that she couldn't name for the life her - have caught up now, and they start to attack.

Everything blurs—she can't tell which creature she's fighting now, she doesn't register the rain pouring down or the lightning splitting the sky, she doesn't notice the claws and knives and swords tearing her apart. The world has become a horrible whirl of screams and shrieks and snarls. The ground starts to tremble, but she ignores the shaking - it's not like she can do anything about it. All Thalia knows is that she's hurt and there are too many of them and she's going to die. She stabs and dodges and backs away, trying desperately to survive.

Some monster—she doesn't know which one—manages to stab her right between the shoulder blades. The blade rips through her, burning like fire. The pain spreads throughout her numb body, and she's on the ground, even though she doesn't remember falling. Time freezes, each moment taking an eternity as her life ticks away, so slowly.

And then, although she doesn't notice it through the haze, all the monsters disappear, bursting into dust. She feels herself being lifted up to her feet, although she doesn't think there's anyone else there on the hill. She's suspended there by some kind of magic, everything turning golden in her distorted vision. She tries to sink back to the ground, to let herself sleep forever, but she can't move. The gold veil starts to fade into blackness, and the pain and worry goes away too. She feels strangely calm, like those precious moments right before you fall asleep.

Suddenly, she doesn't care. She's forgotten Luke and Annabeth and Grover. She's forgotten that she's a demigod who is being chased by the Lord of the Dead and some of his bloodthirstiest minions. She's forgotten that there's anything other than this wonderful, vacuous serenity. For the first time in her life - not that she remembers the bad parts right now - she's completely, utterly, profoundly _peaceful_.

The blackness surrounds her, and everything is quiet.

She rests, at peace.

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	18. Reality

**A/N: 'Ello there! This drabble takes place right after TLO, when Percy returns to NYC for the school year. Enjoy!**

**_It's funny how a city can be a warzone hanging on by a thread one week, and the next everything's back to normal. _(Percy)**

* * *

**Reality**

* * *

He sits in the back of the strawberry van, holding his girlfriend's hand absentmindedly. The city zooms by, towering buildings and shining glass windows and oily puddles on the pavement all becoming a blur.

Two weeks ago, he had seen this city in tatters. Crumbling buildings and broken glass windows and bloody puddles on the pavement.

The destruction, the terror—that was _his_ reality. But the mortals strutting past with briefcases and sitting on benches and chattering into cell phones—they saw the shiny, happy version. And when things got really bad, they only witnessed the aftermath.

He almost wishes he was part of that blurred reality.

(Almost.)

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**


	19. Seashells

**A/N: You might hate me for this one. The very idea of it is so horribly stereotypical and sappy that you'll think I've lost all originality. But here it is: the proposal.**

**By the way, for those of you who catch the end: yes, it's on purpose. **

**_Percy puts seashells on the sea shore. _(PercyxAnnabeth)**

* * *

**Seashells**

* * *

Percy wakes up early, before the sun has even risen. He's got an important job to do—possibly more significant than anything he's done in his entire life.

This morning, Percy is going to ask Annabeth to marry him.

He's never been great at the whole romance thing, but he thinks his idea's pretty good. Stumbling a bit in the darkness, he sneaks onto the beach, down to the shoreline, and under the water. The ocean floor is dim, but he combs the rocks for the most beautiful shells he can find- all different shapes and sizes and colors. Once, a crab attacks him, but Percy manages to convince it to move into another home. It's nice to be supreme overlord of the crustaceans.

He finishes just after sunrise—right on time, because as he's edging back into the cabin, Annabeth is coming out. They collide, and then she laughs and hugs him.

"Come on," he says, "I want to show you something." He grabs her hand without waiting for her reply and leads her down the beach. He can tell that she's curious, but he's not giving anything away until he has to.

His heart pounds—they're thirty feet away. Will she like it? No, probably not, he should have done it with books or something...

Twenty. Oh, _gods_, he'll look like such an idiot if she says no.

Ten feet. He should just turn back, or make something up, or…

Annabeth skids to a halt, sand flying up behind her. She's staring at the ground like she can't believe what she's seeing, and her mouth is hanging open in a way that makes Percy ecstatic and terrified and amused all at the same time.

"Percy… Is this…?" she chokes out, turning to him, but he isn't there. She looks down, and he's down on one knee, staring up at her with a hopeful but slightly apologetic expression on his face.

The tiny velvet box in his hand goes flying when she tackles him to the ground, laughing and shrieking "Yes!" over and over between kisses.

Painstakingly spelled out in the sand with sun-flecked seashells are the words:

"Will yuo mrray me?"

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	20. Traitor

**A/N: You would not _believe_ the homework I've had this week. Ugh. My apologies for the delayed update. Hopefully you guys will like it. (I'm not super happy with it myself, really.) Ethan's story, in freeverse poetry.**

**_Restoring balance, stopping the destruction of all that was good in the world-was that treason?_**

* * *

**Traitor**

* * *

"Treason," he snarled

With his gold eyes

_Burning, burning, burning_

But Ethan

Didn't agree

He was no

Traitor

Setting the scales

Restoring balance

Ensuring justice—

Was that treason?

_Balance, balance, balance_

It was always about balance

The gods weren't—

Stubborn and unstable and

_Fickle, fickle, fickle_

And surely Kronos

Who had been imprisoned

For so long

Who was older, wiser, stronger

Would restore that precious

_Equality, equality, equality_

So he joined

But it wasn't balance

Not the fair justice

He had hoped for

It was pure destruction

But he still wanted

_Revenge, revenge, revenge_

At the end of the story

On the next-to-last page

(The one no one reads

Because they want to get to

The End)

He found

_Justice, justice, justice_

A sword in the stomach

For a sword to the neck

And it

_Hurt, hurt, hurt_

"Treason," Kronos snarled

As his eyes glowed gold

Ethan crumbled

As he was

_Falling_

_Falling_

_Falling_

He knew he was no

_Traitor_

_Traitor_

Traitor

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	21. Unbelievable

**A/N: I actually have free time today! This hasn't happened in ages. So I get to write, and then you get updates. Win-win situation. This one is one I've been wanting to do for a while: the day Paul finds out about demigods. The longest yet, actually; it wouldn't end itself. Enjoy!  
**

**_ His bemused expression slowly slipped off his face like in a sitcom, leaving behind the visual representation of his utter disbelief and confusion, and, frankly, concern for their mental health. _**

* * *

**Unbelievable**

* * *

"I'm home," Paul called, tossing the keys on the overflowing table beside the door. Why the principal had decided to have a faculty meeting the day before Thanksgiving, Paul had no idea, but he was glad that it was over. As much as he loved teaching English, sitting through boring meetings where the Science and History departments always butted heads became unbelievably dull the three millionth time.

"In the kitchen," he heard Sally call. He walked in to find her pulling a sheet of piping hot blue cookies out of the oven, with Percy leaning on the counter looking sullen and uncomfortable. Paul got the feeling that they had just finished some kind of argument—which was strange, because the two rarely disagreed on anything. It'd be difficult to find a closer mother and son.

He kissed Sally (who, by the way, was now his fiancée) on the cheek and asked how her day had been. She smiled a little ruefully and said, "Actually, honey, Percy and I have something we want to talk to you about."

Paul's eyebrows pulled together and he cocked his head bit, like he always did when he was puzzled. "Alright. What about?" Sally gestured that Percy should begin while putting the cookies onto the cooling rack. In true teenager fashion, he sighed and turned towards his soon-to-be stepfather reluctantly.

"You might want to sit down, Paul," he started with a wry smile. Paul obeyed, shooting Sally an amused glance. She shrugged, as if to say, _might as well_. "Before you and my mom get married…well, we were thinking that you deserved to know the truth about—about my dad."

_Oh._ So that's what this was: the ex-slash-biological-father-conversation. He grimaced. This was going to be uncomfortable. He remained silent, but nodded to show that he was listening.

"You know that my mom and dad, uh, met, had me, and then my dad got lost at sea. And I'm guessing you've guessed that I wasn't exactly supposed to happen—in more ways than just that, actually, but I'll get to that later."

By this point, all three of their faces could rival tomatoes.

"But what you don't know, is that…" Percy looked at his mom, looking for approval to continue. She took a deep breath and nodded, pale-faced. _This must be bad_, Paul thought. Percy smirked slightly, probably anticipating his stepfather's reaction, and then sobered again. He looked at Paul straight in the eyes, and continued, "Is that my dad is actually the Greek god Poseidon."

There was a moment of shivering silence, in which Paul looked back and forth between the two faces, expecting to find some trace of joking or humor. They yielded nothing; both Sally's and Percy's eyes were locked on his face, anxiously taking in his reaction. His bemused expression slowly slipped off his face like in a sitcom, leaving behind the visual representation of his utter disbelief and confusion, and, frankly, concern for their mental health.

"Sally…?" he asked weakly. She gave him a small half smile and nodded, never taking her eyes off his face. He shook his head back and forth. "But… that's not… not _possible_. I mean, those are just myths. And even if they were real, they…"

He babbled on, still clinging on to the hope that one of them would crack and go, "April Fools!", until he finally realized how idiotic he sounded. He drifted into silence and waited for someone to explain.

"I know that this is a bit… a bit of a shock, Paul. Believe me. But it's true, all of it. And if you're going to be a part of this family, well, you need to know this," Sally reassured him. She spoke slowly and carefully, enunciating each word, as if she was talking to kindergartener, or someone who had just witnessed a horrible accident.

"So… if your father is really Poseidon," Paul said, somewhat skeptically, turning to face Percy, who remained carefully by the counter, "then you're… what, a demigod? Like Hercules, and Theseus and Perseus—oh! That's why you named him Perseus, isn't it? I wondered."

Sally nodded, smiling. "Perseus was the only hero who got a happy ending. The others all died—"

"Speaking of that," Percy interrupted, with an expression that was a strange hybrid of stress and a smirk, "don't you think we should tell him about the monsters?"

"Monsters. you mean… the creatures in the myths? Like, the Minotau—"

"NO!" Percy and Sally both yelled, leaping forward automatically to stop the name from leaving his mouth. Percy took that ballpoint pen out of his pocket, unconsciously, it seemed.

"What? It's not like they still exist. They all got killed, right? By heroes. Hercules killed that boar, and Cerberus, and…"

Percy was pacing restlessly around the small kitchen now. "Yes, they got killed-well, not Cerberus, he's still in the Underworld. But monsters can't _die_. They're sent down to Tartarus for a while—which is a real place, actually—but then they come back to life. Normally, that's what demigods do. Fight monsters. Now, of course, we've got bigger problems than that..." He walked over to the window, peering out into the street below. Paul sat in his chair, dumbfounded and still not quite believing them, while Sally stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders comfortingly.

Suddenly, Percy muttered something unintelligible—it almost sounded like he spoke another language. Before Paul could even think about that, the "son of Poseidon" turned to his mother and said, "There's kind of a problem down in the street that I need to take care of. Do you mind explaining the rest? Thanks."

Before Sally could respond, he dashed out of the room, pen in hand, and they heard the door slam shut. Sally and Paul sat in silence for a moment, and then he asked, "Sally… is this all real? Please tell me you're not kidding."

She sighed, giving him that sad, rueful half-smile again. "Yes. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this, Paul, believe me. Percy's father really is Poseidon, who really is the ancient Greek god of the sea, among other things. When Percy gets back I'll have him show you exactly what that means."

Paul shook his head for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Had he really been complaining about unpleasant high school teachers just this morning?

"Unbelievable."

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	22. Verse

**A/N: I just realized that you actually need to scroll down on the chapter menu to reach this one. For some reason, that makes me incredibly proud of myself. (Only four left...) Anyway, don't ask me where this pairing came from, because I honestly don't know. They just seemed so adorably wrong for each other. In this drabble, Lee uses poetry (a waka, which is 5-7-5-7-7) to ask Katie to his school's semiformal. Pre-BOTL, obviously, probably soon after TTC. I figured Apollo's kids would inherit his ability for, um, wonderful poetry (which they think is awesome). Enjoy!**

**_Some things just weren't meant to be. Flying pigs, normal demigods... and Lee Fletcher's poetry. _(one-sided LeexKatie)**

* * *

**Verse**

* * *

"Alright. Here it goes," Lee says, taking a deep breath. He stands before the lovely Katie Gardner, about to recite a poem he had composed especially for her. (To say he was nervous would be the biggest understatement of the year.)

"_You beautify earth_

_With your daisies and roses_

_Which the sun shines on_

_So, dear Katie, will you please_

_Go to my semi with me?"_

Katie stares at him, blushing and trying to hide her laughter behind a sweet smile. "You're cute, Lee. I'll get back to you." She winks at him, and he grins. (She's thinking, _Um, no._)

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	23. Wine

**A/N: I realized that I didn't have any Stoll pranks in here yet. (Weird.) In this one shot, they decide to give Dionysus a little surprise... By the way, if you want more Mr. D. action, check out my other story, _Confessions of a Slightly Inebriated Wine God_ (normally, I hate these advertisement things, but it tied in to this)**.** Enjoy!**

**_Six hundred bottles of wine on the porch, six hundred bottles of wine, take one down, pass it around, five hundred ninety nine bottles of wine on the porch..._ (Travis, Connor, and Mr. D.)**

* * *

**Wine**

* * *

The delivery truck pulled up to the hill slowly. The driver was probably wondering why a strawberry farm in the middle of nowhere had ordered fifty cases of Pinot Noir in the middle of the night, but, hey, at least _someone_ was ordering wine. With the economy and all, Jim's Fine Wine Delivery Service was suffering more than ever. (Because boxes of stale wine had been _sooo_ popular to begin with…)

Travis and Connor Stoll crouched by the pine tree, snickering and occasionally shoving each other as they waited for the truck to arrive. This, to be sure, would be their best prank—if not _the_ best prank—in the history of all pranks. Planting six hundred bottles of wine on the front porch of the Big House, while Mr. D. wasn't allowed to have any? Brilliant, they thought.

Grumbling about how this had better not be a joke, the delivery guy—his name tag read "Hi, my name is: Bill"—trudged up the hill to meet the two tricksters. He raised his eyebrows suspiciously at the pair that greeted him. They were tall, but too young-looking to be able to order hundreds of bottles of wine.

"Always the same look," Connor sighed dramatically. "Don't worry, sir, we're of age. Besides, this isn't for us—we like the stronger stuff." He winked at the delivery man and showed him an ID that clearly displayed that he was twenty one years old (which he was not, but dear Bill didn't need to know that, right?).

"Sign here," Bill grunted with a shrug. If the ID fits…

While Connor carefully copied the signature on the card (it wasn't like they would use their _own_ names) Travis fed the delivery man a story about their poor alcoholic uncle. It wasn't a lie, per se, but it wasn't the whole truth, of course. He forgot to mention the tiny detail that their uncle was the ancient Greek god of wine. No big deal.

As Bill went back down the hill to get the wine, Travis and Connor gave each other an _oh-so-casual_ high five. Step one of Operation Alcoholic accomplished.

It took a long time to wheel all of the cases up the hill and over to the Big House, but eventually they managed to. No one saw them, thankfully; being sons of Hermes did have its advantages. They finished just before dawn and stepped back to admire their work.

The bottles were stacked carefully all over the wooden porch. Arranged in lines surrounding the door, they looked like soldiers laying siege to a fortress. A wall of bottles stretched several feet up, completely blocking the doorway.

"Perfect," Travis whispered. Connor laughed conspiratorially and dragged his brother behind another wall of wine so that they could watch without being seen.

Just as the sun rose, making the deep purple liquid glisten, the wine god himself stepped out the door, looking grumpy as ever. He stopped short when he met the battalion of bottles, his jaw going slack as he took in the state of the porch. There was a moment of expectant silence, in which the Stolls tried not to laugh behind their shield. A chuckle slipped through Travis's mouth before he could stop it, and Connor quickly slapped a hand over his brother's mouth, but it was too late.

Dionysus turned slowly towards them, rage painted all over his face. The brothers' eyes widened, but before they could try to escape the god's wrath, Mr. D. pointed a finger at them. A bolt of purple lightning shot at them, shattering the glass bottles, and everything went black.

* * *

"So," Percy asked with a grin, a week later. "How did you enjoy being dolphins?"

Travis and Connor just glowered at him.

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	24. Xi

**A/N: Howdy y'all. Breaking news: I rewrote chapter 1: _Art_. Don't worry, it's not completely different. I was looking back on it a few days ago and realized that it really wasn't my best work, so I expanded and reworded it a bit. Please, go back and _read the revision_- you'll like it a lot better than the original! Thanks.  
**

**This one's a drabble- it's been so long since I tried one of these, and even longer since I tried one with dialogue. Tell me what you think- did it work? This takes place during TLT, when Annabeth is teaching Percy Ancient Greek (before he gets claimed). Enjoy, and sorry for the obnoxiously long AN!  
**

**_You can lead an idiot to Ancient Greek, but you can't make him learn. _(Percy and Annabeth)**

* * *

**Xi**

* * *

"…Kappa, Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi—"

"No, Percy," Annabeth sighed. She'd been trying to teach this _numbskull_ Ancient Greek for hours. "It's not _z__ī_; it's _ks__ī_. You keep getting the pronunciation wrong."

"But it looks like a _Z_," Percy protested with an infuriatingly confused expression. "Why would they make it look like a _Z_ if it sounds like an _X_?"

Annabeth gritted her teeth. "Greek came before Roman script, remember? Somewhere along the way, someone switched the pronunciations and written forms of _xi_ and _chi_, and…"

Percy's eyes were glazed over.

"You know what? Why don't we stop for today."

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**


	25. Yearbook

**A/N: Fun fact: originally, the letter Y was going to be an argument between a few of the characters about Yankees vs Red Sox (Red Sox Nation all the way!) but then the characters started telling me to stop before they got horribly out of character. Literally- in my mind, they were debating whether the number of pennants in the past should affect the team's standing now, and then Travis turned to me and told me to stop writing. Should I get a therapist? Yes. Will I? No. **

**Anyway, I'm not sure if I like this one or not. Here's the story: one of Percy's eighth grade classmates is looking back at his old yearbook, and can't remember for the life of him the name of that kid with the black hair and weird green eyes. Basically, a few moments of Percy's eighth grade year through the eyes of a mortal. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!**

**Also, I've gone back and revised Edge, too. It's still a drabble, but reworked a bit, and the theme is different. Give it a shot.  
**

**_He probably wouldn't be obsessing over this kid if his memories weren't so blurred, like there was a fine layer of mist over everything having to do with the mystery man. _**

* * *

**Yearbook**

* * *

Chris Nathanson looked down at the picture in the yearbook with a puzzled expression. He could name all the people in his eighth grade class picture except that one, right there on the end of the second row. Why they hadn't included names was beyond him. The kid had black hair and a smirk on his face. Chris was pretty sure he had… blue eyes? Wait, no, those weird green ones. No, Chris was not some creeper that remembered everyone's eye color. That kid was just… _striking_. That was it. He always looked like he was in pain, and his eyes practically shone with contempt for everyone else.

Patrick. Yeah… no.

And, if Chris remembered correctly, this was the same kid that tried to impale the history teacher—or maybe it was the school nurse?—with a yardstick. What a psycho—you'd think Chris would _remember his name. _Things like this always bugged him. He probably wouldn't be obsessing over this kid (it was, after all, a school for "troubled" children) if his memories weren't so blurred, like there was a fine layer of mist over everything having to do with the mystery man.

Peter? No, it wasn't quite right, but it was close.

Earlier that year, too. Chris and his friends had been asking the kid why he'd left his old school. It wasn't like newbies came to their small school very often, and almost never in eighth. The kid automatically looked uncomfortable at the question, mumbling that he got expelled. When Chris's friends teased him about it, though, the boy had snapped and told them that he'd been blamed for exploding his school's gymnasium. The outburst was followed by a moment of stunned silence, and then the kid was bombarded with a round of new questions—did he actually do it? Why? How? Or if he didn't, who did? Was the explosion cool?

Perry. P, p, p… ugh!

And that damned pen. The kid always—_always_—carried around this normal, blue, ballpoint pen. Even during gym class, he stuck it down his shoe. Maybe he had separation anxiety, or something. If anyone asked to borrow the pen, he got this funny smile on his face, and responded with a resounding "Nope." In fact, the only time Chris had seen the mysterious boy without his trusty sidekick was when he stabbed the teacher with the yardstick. Weird—maybe someone stole the pen, and he went insane. He never came back to school after that day, anyway, so that theory made some sense.

Per…_Percy!_ That was his name. Percy Jackson. Short for—what was it?—Perseus. A Roman hero, or something of the sort.

How could he have forgotten about old Percy Jackson? Now that he remembered the name, the memories started to come back more clearly. He was funny, in an off kind of way. A bit dim-witted at times, but no more than your average teenage guy. And there was that whole disorder thing he had—ADD, was it? He was always either completely spaced out or tapping that pen anxiously on his desk, like he expected a bomb to drop any second.

Percy had hung out with Chris's group of friends sometimes, although he was mostly kind of a loner. No one had bothered to keep in touch after the whole "yardstick incident" (after which every single yardstick in the school was given to charity). In fact, he didn't even know where Percy had gone after that fiasco. Maybe he was shut up in a mental hospital. Or roaming the railroads. Or maybe he was just doing what Percy Jackson did best: causing trouble at another school somewhere.

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	26. Zeal

**A/N: The final one. Are you ready for the obnoxiously long author note? First of all, I'm so sad that this is over.** **I'll be able to focus a larger portion of my attention on my other stories, though, so if you want more StarlitReader... (By the way, I've officially archived over 25,000 words on this site. Hooray!)  
**

**Second,_ thankyouthankyouthankyou_ to all my reviewers: xFireStarx, AtheisticPokemon, PeetaPercyFANGirl, iBelonginoz, larkgrace, SmartyPants1493, AnnabethChaserocks, maximilian7, Pop97, iluvfantasy, Chetlee, Surliat, percabeth4evr, p3paula, ReadrOfBooks, Unsuspected, WiseGirl393, Bobeara, highfivingjesus, filmyflurry, TheGirlWithHerHeadInTheClouds, I-luv-Aang-Percy-Danny, PureAwesomeness13, Lauren Tobias, pjoftw111, SweetDragonSeeker, zeynel, Taylor Celeste, Shorty and KG Inc., Cherry Louise, kitty-whiskers, Owl of the Sea, In the Closet FanFic Reader, Eleos, horseyfan, pin feather, and all the anonymous reviewers out there. Phew, that took a while to type. You are the source of my motivation and inspiration, and I can't thank all of you enough. **

**This last oneshot is called _Zeal_, in which Annabeth reflects on Percy and her relationship with him. Some dark themes present at the very end, but it's mostly romance and sadness. Hope you like it- please remember to leave your thoughts!**

**_Whatever Percy did, he did it with heart._ (PercyxAnnabeth)**

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**Zeal**

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If there was one word that described Percy, she decided, it was _zealous_. Energy, bravery, devotion—all the qualities that made Percy, Percy were enveloped in that little word.

It had started early, or so she'd heard. She didn't know Percy before that first summer, that first quest, but from what Grover told her, he'd always been the one to stand up for people. Outcasts, nerds, "cripples" like Grover had pretended to be—none of that mattered to Percy. As cliché as it sounded, he only cared about what was on the inside. Why should he hang out with the cool, mean kids when that perfectly nice dork was sitting alone over there? He was noble, too. Always sacrificing himself (even if, at the time, it was only his middle school social status) for others, the lovable idiot.

As much as she'd disliked—_despised_—him at the start of that fateful summer, she could never deny that he was loyal or good-hearted. The poor kid had seemed so _heartbroken_ when he thought his mom died, but he never gave up hope. Incredible, really. (And a bit insane, but what was Percy if not slightly crazy?) And on the quest—Percy never abandoned his friends. He came back for them on the bus with the Furies. He got them all out of the Lotus casino. He saved them from Procrustes and left his own mother behind in the Underworld to get Annabeth and Grover to safety. There wasn't a single time that first summer that he didn't put others before himself.

Their second quest had been the same. She'd gotten so close to him then—floating around on a boat by yourselves for a few days tends to do that to you. The entire time, he never stopped believing that they'd find Grover. His hope made her believe, too. His energy was infectious—you couldn't help but feel what he was feeling.

And how could she forget the time he'd journeyed across the country to save her? Yes, and Artemis, but knowing Percy, he was probably only thinking of _her_. She hadn't heard all the details of the quest, but she knew that he went through hell. He _held up the sky_. He stopped at nothing to rescue her. And that sweet, awkward dance on Mount Olympus made her smile every single time it crossed her mind.

Then the summer came, and everything changed. The air was more charged between them, and she found herself thinking about him more and more. She could still remember so vividly the way it felt when he held her, the day she got the prophecy. And the way it felt to think that he was dead. How could she have _left_ him? Let him sacrifice himself for her? Honestly, she'd never expected her first kiss to be like that. But he returned, and they were together again, even if he _had_ been with that—ugh. She remembered the wild arguments they had, with Percy always saying that he didn't want her to get hurt, and her always retorting that she could take care of herself, thank you very much. She remembered the way he spoke afterwards—soft and gentle, apologetic—and the way her heart couldn't help but melt and break a little bit more, like a chocolate bar in the sun.

The next summer was wild, unpredictable, unsteady, terrifying. They were in the midst of a war, but that was only half of it. Percy was almost sixteen—just a few, horribly short weeks from—from _dying_. Even if he wasn't the child of the prophecy, that would simply mean he had died before he could fulfill it. There was no escape—Percy would be _gone_ by the end of the summer. She couldn't bear it, couldn't allow herself to think of it, and yet it was constantly on her mind. How could it not be? But the days flew by, and that brave Seaweed Brain kept fighting, fighting towards the death he didn't even know about. She teetered on the brink of a breakdown, emotions she'd never felt before unbalancing her. She should enjoy his presence, love him, while she could. No, no, the other part of her cried, she should keep away, save herself the pain.

The last week of the war was a blur. She remembered the fight in the strawberry fields, then searching for him when he wasn't there in the morning. The phone call, and going to Olympus. Finding out that he had taken on the curse. Days and days of battle. Taking the knife for him, and their conversation on the balcony. She was pretty sure she'd called him cute. More fighting followed, and then suddenly they were in the throne room. Fighting Kronos. On Percy's sixteenth birthday. She fought as much as she could, praying that he would make the right choice, hoping foolishly that there was some way he could survive. And he did, against all odds. She remembered being named the official architect of Olympus, and then—and then Percy turned down _immortality_ for _her_. That night, their first kiss when one of them _wasn't_ about to die, was one of the best of her life.

Everything was perfect. And then, of course, the worst possible thing happened. He vanished—gone, without a trace. She searched frantically, not finding anything. Jason brought the news—her Seaweed Brain was at the Roman camp, in danger, and without any of his memories. He wouldn't remember his past, his friends, his family—or his girlfriend. She cried that night like she'd never cried before. She threw herself into the preparations, and eventually they reached him. And he _remembered_. Not everything, but he knew _her_.

Throughout that second war, he fought tirelessly. Nothing could extinguish his energy - he was so brave, fearless… he kept all of them going. He told them to never give up, to remember that they were all true warriors. He was invincible, an unstoppable force, and—he died for her.

_He died for her_.

He.

Died.

For.

Her.

And what could she do but follow?

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_~fin~_


End file.
